


The Mechanic

by Pythonmelon



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-05-21 14:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6054445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pythonmelon/pseuds/Pythonmelon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An older story off hiatus getting a nice cleanup from it's original place on FF.net, the story of an OC I love dearly. This has gained more focus and gone a different direction than the original plan, but holds steady as one of many background stories to the life and times of the Heterodynes. </p><p>One of the last created before the formula was apparently lost, this young and unassuming Jager watches history pass from a place deep in the smoke and oil of the engine rooms, his own story being told.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Heh." Damien snickered. He had a long string of spit dribbling slowly towards his younger cousin. His big hands rested on the other boy’s shoulders, holding him down, and his knees on either side of his chest. Virgil struggled below him, not strong enough to escape, but strong enough to put up a fight. He kicked futilely. “Why don't you just call your mommy?” The older boy teased, knowing well that Virgil was mute. He had been born that way, and Damien had been taking absolute advantage of it for years.  


The scrawny 11-year-old could do nothing now but flinch. No one seemed to be paying them any mind; it wasn’t time to feed the chickens for another half-hour. He shut his eyes, made sure his mouth was closed, and waited for the splat. It hit him right between the eyes.  


A few moments later he was free and trying to wipe the spit off of his forehead. It was especially sticky and smelled worse than usual today. He assumed the other boy had been trying to make his own Maple syrup again. He quietly wished that Damien would eventually get poison sap. The child left unhappily for his chores. As he walked, tossing out chicken feed here and there, he was surrounded by poultry.  


The family Alexandrescu was of farmers, chicken farmers. There were hundreds of the ugly little beasts everywhere, in coops perhaps better than the people’s living quarters. But they had been bringing in a good haul for almost eighty years, spanning three generations and surviving two whole different Heterodynes here on the outskirts of Mechanicsburg.  


~~~  


“Virgil, get out of the garage!” His father called from the living room, voice its usual pitch-up between disinterest and anger. The boy jerked up in surprise, banging his head on a pipe and groaning. “Go check the fences!” Virgil groaned again, pushing a hand through his dark greasy hair. His three sisters never had to check the fences. But then again they were only five… He got up, sliding on his butt out from under the family wagon. Well, at this point it wasn’t a wagon. Thanks to Virgil it was now a high-speed death buggy. He had even written it crudely on the side, despite his mother’s enormous protests. Sometimes she regretted teaching that boy to write to communicate.  


He had made several ‘minor’ adjustments, with the addition of one steam engine under the seat, a flame throwing horn, and the ever popular traffic splitter. That one Virgil was especially proud of. He had been doing this for a while, to all the items he could sneak into the garage. Occasionally he even souped up other people’s vehicles just to see the reaction of horror and awe as, say, their wagon torched a goat crossing the road.  


The boy was looking more and more like a spark. But without a clear breakthrough, his parents preferred to think him a good natural-born mechanic. At least he wasn’t another mad boy that would be recruited by the army before he was even thirteen. They figured so long as he got to work there wouldn’t be any scary breakthroughs later on in case they were wrong.  


The caramel skinned boy left his death buggy, going to find any broken fences around the perimeter of their five-square kilometer property. If they weren’t tight enough foxes, monsters, and Jaegers came in to steal their chickens. They had to feed that army somehow, but it wasn’t coming from their farm: He had plans to electrify the barbed wire, and blueprints hung up under his tools.  


~~~  


Virgil was preparing to take over the family farm, as much as he hated the animal tenants. No one else could. His mother was old and becoming arthritic, his sisters too young, and Damien intentionally left out of the line. He had been sneaking around for too many years to be considered reliable based only on ability to haul hay. No one said a word to him for the sake of avoiding one of his brutish tantrums, though.  


Virgil’s father was no longer with them. He had died in the testing of a new clank of the Heterodynes released on the farms. At least it had done what it had intended to do as a war machine, grabbing as many enemies as it could before blowing the whole area to smithereens.  


Now five years had passed, Virgil Simu Alexandrescu was first in line before his sisters for the farm and had been long putting it off. Right now, though, he wasn’t thinking of responsibility. He was thinking about turning twenty, and the surprise his mother had promised would accompany it. Even as an adult it excited him.  


“Here you are.” She came into the kitchen as he served waffles to the triplets. He looked up from spooning cinnamon apples over the food when she hefted a large jar of change onto the old table. The young man’s dark eyes seemed to brighten. What was this for? He put a hand on the lid, feeling an odd urge to just dig his hands into it. He had never had so much money.  


“Not now.” The woman smacked his hand away, knowing well what her only boy planned. “This is to pay for your gift.” She looked down. “Your father and I have been saving this money for years. It is to buy you a voice.”  


He frowned, in need of an explanation. “The doctor, Herr Dresdner, has a breakthrough procedure. He can repair your voice.” She grinned. “With this money we can convince him to do it with no other additions!”  


Now Virgil could light up. He hugged her, looking between her and the money before picking up the jar, ready to go now.  


“Soon.” She promised with a laugh at his enthusiasm. “First you will eat and take a bath.” He rolled his eyes. He had bathed three days ago. But fine, fine. He would do it if it got him there faster. He didn’t even sit while he scarfed down the waffles as Dana, Mary, and Evelynn followed suit. Before they were even finished he ran to the wash basin.  


Mary, the tallest and spunkiest of the girls, was arguing with Dana over who had to lock up the coops when he returned, still drying his hair. “Okay, okay,” She chuckled, tucking his muscle shirt into his grey work pants. There was no need for fancy clothing; he was probably just going to exchange it for a hospital gown. With that, he picked up the jar and they left.  


The man helped load his family into the still fondly named doom buggy, taking the wheel. His mother still hated it so, especially since the machine had gone from shooting up monsters to blowing up barns thanks to its creator. He honked the horn gleefully, making it sputter and belch a three-foot long tongue of flame. He turned and smiled at his mother, meeting her scowl, before pouting and pulling out.  


The townspeople parted, used to seeing this piece of destruction roll through town. They got to the corner where the great hospital waited just across the cobblestone walk. The crowd of farmers checked in, meeting the good doctor. “Ah, you wanted the voice right?” He greeted them with a long, delicate fingered hand placed firmly on the young man’s shoulders. Virgil nodded. “Are you the subject?” He nodded again as he was led inside a cleanly but small wood paneled room filled with waiting benches, family following. The lead began to adjust his goggles before remembering they were part of his face and had been for years. “You know… I can add some other stuff I wanted to test out too-“  


“Ahem.” His mother pouted, setting the jar on a counter.  


“Ooh…” He poked at the jar. “Okay. Just the voice.” She tapped the jar again. “Oh, fine, a HUMAN voice.” He rolled his eyes. The middle-aged and balding man put an arm around his subject once again. As they crossed into the operating room through a faintly stained screen door, he looked towards the family. “You might want to stay out there.”  


Virgil swallowed. “Don’t worry.” Dresdner promised. “I know how to use anesthetics!”  


~~~  


After a few hours Virgil was released, free of the experiment chair, grinning tiredly through hours of pain medication. “Success!” The doctor announced. “Well, you best go home, get rest. Come back tomorrow and let me hear you!”  
He stumbled out into the waiting room where his mother was knitting with Evelynn and the other two were asleep. She smiled at seeing his lack of extra limbs and the row of stitches along his throat. He rubbed his neck sorely before smiling.  


As they exited the building, helping the still drowsy man into the cart, his mother stroked his wavy hair, her ever withstanding gift of affection. This time Mary got to drive, which worried her even more, but her baby boy was going to talk which was even better.  


“Virgil, we’re going to do some shopping.” She said as traffic began to clear like magic again. “Do you want to come along?”  


He shook his head. “The Herr said rest.” Dana poked her head from the back seat between them.  


The woman nodded. “Okay, Mary, let’s go home first.”  


~~~  


The man laid down on the couch as soon as he got inside, still smiling faintly as the buggy pulled out again and left him alone. The man breathed in the musty air of age it gave off, mingling with the smell of well used carpet and poorly varnished wooden walls. He couldn’t believe he was going to finally speak… Virgil’s eyes began to flutter shut, dreaming of what all he would get to say. They snapped open at the squawks of chickens in distress. He sat up quickly, peering out the window just above his head.  


There was Damien, exiting the nearest coop with four chickens under his arms. Virgil blinked, not surprised but clearly disgruntled. He looked down. Should he go stop him? It wasn’t the best idea, considering his past of getting beaten up with ridiculous repetitiveness. Vell… if hy can speak… maybe he’ll be more intimidated? He thought. Who knew how deep and frightening he really was? Well, that was enough reasoning for him.  


The man jumped off the couch and moved through the garage and outside, too determined to be sore. He snatched at Damien’s collar angrily, making him turn. Virgil pointed to the chickens. “Oh, ha.” He smirked. “Yeah, someone’s got to sell them to the army since you keep reinforcing the fences. They get the pleasure of going it underhanded, I get a few extra coins to jangle.”  


The mechanic narrowed his eyes before rearing back, swinging upward, and socking his cousin in the mouth. “Hyu little shit!” He prepared to hit back, dropping two of the birds who went squawking into the distance. Then the cousin waited. “Vhy should I beat you op today? Hyu can’t tell do anything.”  


Virgil’s eyes narrowed even more. He pulled his protective collar down gently and pointed with a smirk to his still swollen stitches. “Actually…” He coughed up the words much less articulately than he had imagined. But the words were still coming out understandably. “Hy will tell dis time!”  


For a moment Damien was in complete shock. He dropped the rest of the birds and punched the younger man right back. Virgil didn’t have much time to react before the other struck again, and again. He coughed; spat out a small bit of blood into the sun baked dirt, and kicked Damien in the knee.  


The other man’s leg buckled, forcing him to back up. For a moment the brunette rubbed his knee sorely before launching himself again, tackling Virgil ferociously. He pulled his fists together and hammered on his cousin’s chest and arms, savoring in hollow sound. “I’ll-“ He panted between blows. “Teach! Hyu! To! Be! A! Goody two-shoes!”  


Virgil groaned and tried to worm from beneath the raging cousin’s grasp. This only earned him a clout to the ear. Damien got up, allowing Virgil to breathe just long enough to realize he was seeing stars. Then he punted him right in the ribs. This elicited a wonderful gasp and he continued, circling as he did so to break as many ribs and bruise as much flesh as possible.  


The mechanic whined quietly. He hurt too much to stand, barely managing to roll onto his belly and clenching up, trying to avoid a blow that could seriously cripple him. Damien planted a shoe in his ass a few more times.  


After a few more minutes of beating Virgil, he became bored. He couldn’t get him to open up from the turtle position and had sufficiently bruised most everything he could reach. He had even guaranteed his cousin at least three broken ribs.  


The man just grunted and began to walk away. Virgil struggled to sit up, sticking his neck out to breathe heavily. Damien turned. He narrowed his muddy brown eyes at the scar, still exposed, clearly defined and still swollen. “Hyu are not going to tell.” Before he could realize what Damien had even said and tuck his head back under, he came back and kicked Virgil firmly in the stitches.  


He collapsed again. Damien ran off as Virgil gasped like a fish, struggling to breathe and not being able too as blood poured from his split stiches. He wheezed loudly, too sore and too afraid of blood loss to move. He shut his eyes, focusing through the searing pain and need to sleep, on surviving.  


He was found less than half an hour later. His sisters carried him inside, desperately placing ice and bandages over the wounds, knots, and bruises. He gagged. “I think he’s going to live.” Dana prepared to start the wagon again. Maybe they’d get a discount for being back at the hospital less than a day later.  


His mother asked him something he didn’t hear. She already knew the answer, it was common sense, that Damien was the trouble maker who would beat the shit out of her son in the middle of the chicken yard. It was the busted stitches that bothered her. That surgery was what they had been working for for so long, and if it was ruined thanks to Virgil getting into a fight… he would be ruined.  


He tried to speak, despite still barely being able to breathe. “…” He opened his mouth a few times before firmly shutting it again, unable to make noise other than a faint whistle. She stroked his hair very gently.  


For the next few days he remained in a hospital bed, tucked in tight and unmoving. The surgeon came in to look, and told them- clearly disappointed- that what had been done ruined the work. He offered to try again, but Vigil turned him down. He wasn’t afraid that Herr Dresdner would foul up and give him wings like he had wanted to before- though he probably would and then some- but he just didn’t want his voice back.  


Having there for days in recovery, Virgil was given time to think about what he had done. The first thing he did with a voice was go out, knowingly endangering such a fragile surgery, and gotten into a fight with someone who was well versed in the special administration of his beatings. He had tried to be a hero.  


So, did he really deserve a voice if he could only do something stupid with it? He decided not.


	2. Chapter 2

After being sent home and getting back the ability to walk without help, the first thing the man did was pack his bags. He was going to put himself to use, as far away from Damien as he could. “Virgil, where are you goink?” His mother chased him out, trying to check his bandages. He shoved her off gently with a grunt.  


He pointed towards the sun, was rising over Castle Heterodyne in the distance, hand shaking slightly. She stepped back. “De army?” He nodded. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Son, that’s suicide.” Not that she didn’t have faith in her son, but he would be eaten alive- maybe literally. He put his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes, raising one eyebrow as if to ask if she didn’t know he knew that. Virgil clicked his teeth and made a ‘tch’ sound. It was common knowledge that anyone who joined the Heterodyne army didn’t leave willingly. They came out either in caskets or were made to retire.  


His sisters, having heard their mom chasing him (never a good sign) came out to listen in. “Okay well… try not to kill anyone from our town.” She asked. He shrugged, not willing to make any promises. Even his body language was angrily silent. “No one from our farm?” He shrugged again, thinking about Damien. “Okay well no one you like.” This time there was a nod.  


She sighed. This meant she and the girls would have to share the work. But he was a hard-headed boy and there was no way she was going to get anything better out of him. At least he was doing something productive and going to work for the Heterodynes. From the window of the house his cousin glared out. No one had said anything too him, and they preferred it this way.  


He sighed silently, closing his eyes and offering them each a goodbye hug before adjusting his improvised chicken feed knapsack and marching out the gates.  


He made his way to the recruiting table in front of the castle’s side entrance when the sun was high and intense. What was here was something loosely called a recruiting table where all the young men who strolled by were being welcomed. Virgil flinched as someone ran, raving, from within the castle walls and by.  


“So, hyu vant to enter de army?” The jaeger sitting at the table, marking off names, looked up at him from beneath the bill of her hat. He nodded quickly. “Hyu like killink things?” She presumed. He nodded again. She raised her eyebrow and frowned. “Hyu mute or something?”  


He nodded again. “Goot.” She stood. “Somevun who von’t talk back. Down the hall, to the left, you’re velcome in the courtyard.”  


He entered the walls of Castle Heterodyne, looking around nervously. He bit his lip and trudged on, trying not to think about the traps rumored to be set all down the halls. He figured they wouldn’t let it take out too many new recruits. After a few moments of walking towards the light, head down, he made it to the courtyard where they would be divided up by specialty by the generals.  


He got shifted into a small division of beginning mechanics, a far corner by the azaleas. That didn’t mean, however, that he was safe from the gruel of training and the enjoyment of killing. Iscariot Heterodyne wasn’t going to allow anyone in his army to not taste blood at least ten times.  


“Hey, I know dis guy.” One of the monsters, a green one with wavy purple hair that had been put in charge of his training for the day, said. “He’s de guy who iz alvays trying to chase us off at de chicken farm.” This made Virgil grin sheepishly under the hungry gazes of several Jaegers. He didn’t know much about them, had only ever been watched, and didn’t exactly want to at the moment...  


A human colored one that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere patted him on the back heavily, making him jump. “Scares easier den hy thought.” Oh no, they were going to eat him alive. “But… promising.”  


“Yah, if he ken keep us out of dere most of de time, he might just have a chance.” The first replied. He snatched his hand and shook it hard. “De names Dimo.” He took a deep, relieved breath. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad- “Now all of hyu drop und give me vun hundred.” Several of the men in his group moaned. Most were quite heavy set, used to intellectual challenges rather than physical labor, and dropped into the grass with loud thumps. He thanked God for years of exercise cushioned around the hobby he had chosen to further.  


He finished several minutes later alongside the best of his team, long before the rest. “Form needs work.” Dimo muttered to the four who had finished. “But its de first day. Hyu four, I vant hyu to clean de barns. De rest, vun hundred more.”  


There was a collective groan from the slow folks. Two of Virgil’s new partners begrudgingly trudged away, followed by the two who were aware that you had to start low. “Und vatch out for de horzes! Dey bite!” The other Jaeger warned. Dimo jammed an elbow into his gut, telling him to shut up and stop ruining the fun.  


~~~  


When only a handful of hours remained until dawn, he was finally led to his new quarters and allowed to move in. “I expect to see hyu lot in four hours, at first light.” Dimo oriented the four into a bedroom and shut the door. “So rest op.”  


Virgil tossed his knapsack onto a cot and collapsed. He was completely worn out, without another ounce of physical or mental strength left in him. But the second day was always worse. He managed to sit up again as the others, whom he had yet to get the names of and didn’t really plan on getting to know, began to snore. He rubbed his arms down with olive oil his mother had insisted on him taking to loosen the muscles up, removing the sweat-stained bandages he no longer had to wear. This was going to be a long week, but he wasn’t going to let himself be threatened or scared.  


The mechanic slipped a silver flask out from its hiding place in a wad of shirts. He tipped his head back and swallowed a few times, welcoming the sleep aid into his body for the next few hours. He flopped over, burying his face into the flat pillow, wormed his shoes off thoughtlessly, and fell into a dreamless sleep.  


The next day a different Jaeger, this one nearly all hair, met them. All four of the people were sore, bleary eyed, and incredibly disagreeable. “Listen op maggots!” He commanded, hurriedly walking them to the library. “Today hyu iz gonna show exactly how good hyu are vit machines. In de field ve lose a lot of clenks. But materials iz expensive and hard to steal, so hyu haff to be ready to maintain dem twenty-four…” He scratched his head thoughtfully. “Seffen! Now ken any of hyu read?”  


Virgil and one other raised their hands. The Jaeger clicked his tongue, impressed with two out of four. “Hokay. Hyu guyz iz promoted. Start readink de blueprints for de kestle and all de clenks.” He pointed to a towering pile of scribbled designs by old Heterodynes. “De rest ken figure it out on they’re own.”  


He began to sift through the imposing collection as the others left, picking out the ground travel and weaponry stuff he knew, and a few airships he should probably study. The other man seemed to favor water craft. As they sat down and began to scan the prints, familiarizing themselves with war machines galore, Virgil’s companion looked up. “What’s your name?”  


He took a pencil and scribbled on the corner of a loose paper, showing it to him. “Virgil? Okay. Dis is your chance to change it if hyu want. I’m Kaff.” He shook his head, propping up his knee-length boots on the table. “Okay. Well Virgil, hyu must alvays remember- you’ll never get anywhere in this army unless hyu have a nize hat.”  


He blinked. Sure, the jaegers were obsessed with their hats, but did you earn more respect for having a nice one? “That’s right. I know, it’s weird, but something about this army makes them love hats more than life itself.” Virgil nodded. “I mean, look at General Osk. I that guy lost his hat… I don’t know what he would do.” He chuckled silently before going back to reading.  


Hours later he felt brain dead, and the day wasn’t even half over. They had only just really fully woken up, having been provided a supply of coffee by a maid. They were nearly through the stack, only a few designs left, but Virgil had stopped learning anything from them at least an hour ago. He just hoped something had been absorbed while he mentally napped.  


“Alright, time to join de others for lunch.” The jaeger came in again. At the mention of food both their stomachs growled. “Hope hyu guys picked up someting from dese, because hyu is goink on hyu first raid next veek.” Virgil swallowed, looking at the Kaff. He smirked, mouthing ‘Good chance to get a hat’.  


The made their way back to the courtyard, where almost two hundred tables were set up in close proximity with each other. Jaegermonsters streamed in from the doors, over the walls, from the roof. There were also plenty of humans and other creatures of varying size and ferocity, but there were just so many Jaegers, and this wasn’t even all of them.  


He took a seat by Kaff and what appeared to be the other mechanics, spanning ten tables. They all doubled as soldiers, and most were quite experienced. Almost all had hats in exception of the new guys, despite only about thirty of them being Jaegers. He whistled softly. Some of these were quite impressive.  


There wasn’t much intelligent talk to be heard anywhere and that was just fine. Many were horsing around, playing games with knives. This appeared to be the regular pastime as most had at least one scar on the back of their hands or missing fingers. It was apparently hilarious. The entire atmosphere, really, was of disregard for the everyday problems of literally everyone else in the world.  


To his surprise General Goomblast, recognizable because of everything about him, was sitting among the other mechanics. “Vell lookit dot!” Alexi grinned widely. “Ve gots new recruits. Hyu know, I vas originally in de mechanic’s division.” He told the group of newbies, who had crowded at one table together for safety.  


Goomblast began to relate to them tales of hundreds of years ago when a mechanic had to make all his own parts, and how he made his ocular implants himself whilst going blind after an incident concerning very bite-y giant turtles.  


Virgil smiled. This general was downright sociable, so maybe they weren’t all that terrifying. As they ate from the countless meats found on every table (and a handful of vegetables that few indulged in.) they all recounted stories. Virgil simply listened in, nodding or grinning and clapping when one was especially funny. He even got a piece of paper and had Kaff read his story of the giant eel that had taken refuge in his room for two weeks.  


After a bit the general produced a teapot and tin box from beneath his coat. “Tea?” He distributed it across the table with delicate, fuzzy hands. As they drank politely as they could, he handed each one of his famous tea cakes from the box. “Hy haff had five hundred years to perfect dis recipe.” Several picked them up timidly. “Mind de bogs.” He warned just as Virgil took his first bite. And so the mechanic found his first love.


	3. Chapter 3

“Alright men.” The commander said, pulling his horse alongside the wagon Kaff, Virgil, and the other mechanics were in. “Ve are approaching de village. Dis raid should be easy-peasy, no problem.” They all nodded. “De town is goink to be made a new part of the Heterodyne territory since dey refused before. Standard procedure, burn de crops und kill anyvun who opposes.”  


They all cheered in agreement. As a first raid it excited the new soldiers. They were going to get to make their first kills and take hats, if they considered themselves so bold and fashionable. Virgil grinned and adjusted his carrying straps, the sickle he had brought safely attached to the wide part of his back. You couldn’t detect that he had it until the man shed his jacket, making it especially good for taking people by surprise. The others had their own weapons, mostly swords or low-power guns.  


This battle wasn’t intended on being hard or dangerous. In fact, it was estimated that with their sheer numbers and overwhelming force the Heterodyne side would lose few to none. The town was, after all, only of four hundred and they had brought a small army of eight hundred. That meant six for every man in the town, which was their main concern. Women and children were typically left alone unless they decided to defend their crops or form a force of their own.  


Ahead of the carts were the soldiers and clanks, then the horses, and finally drummers that kept pace. They were split into three squads, taking the town from its three entrances- the open plain, where Virgil’s team was located, a road to the east, and a supply trail from the forest.  


The mechanic moved into the cab of the cart, past shelves of tools and spare parts. It was a wind-up mechanical cart, because horses were too likely to run off when things got bad. The clicking of the wheels as they moved was the only sound other than drums in the distance. The town would know they were here soon.  


Just a few moments later town gates began to close, great oak doors creaking, signaling time for waiting was over and that the battle was beginning. The drummers fell back and soldiers forced the gates to stay open, pushing forward in a wave. The horsemen fell back as well, branching off and heading towards the farmhouses. Some were blowing horns to warn anyone who didn’t want to lose their life to stay inside.  


The carts of supplies stopped just before reaching the edge of the fields, turned, and spread evenly around the edges. At first they appeared to be mostly non-combatants, harmless. But they were just getting ready. A rain of flaming arrows rose from the ground where the supply carts had stopped, turning the fields red with fire. Virgil crawled onto the roof of his vehicle to watch in awe, even though from this distance you couldn’t see much over the walls. The screams said enough.  


Two hours of waiting in the mechanics spotted a horseman riding back between the flaming rows of corn and wheat, drenched in sweat, three horses tied behind him. His animals’ coats were splattered with blood already. “We lost a walking clank in the business district. The commander wants three of you there yesterday.”  


Virgil slid off the roof and joined two more, gathering parts to the most likely damaged areas. Hips or guns could be jammed, guidance system busted, perhaps ruptured pipes in the body. As one of the two who had been promoted, he was obligated to go while Kaff stayed, ready in case another call came. He would be doing most of the work while the others were making whatever other minor repairs were needed. He took what extra tools would probably be needed and jammed them into his belt before jogging out with the other two. They untied the horses from their commander’s, packing parts into saddlebags before mounting.  


Virgil struggled onto the back of his beast of burden. He had no idea how to ride horseback. The man’s only hope was that it was well trained enough to follow the other’s lead. Thankfully, it was and there was no problem riding into town. The flames directly against the path had receded, giving them a bit more room to ride without being burnt. He took a deep breath of the hot, smoky air. Ash and smoke obscured the view of the town from this angle, but the gate was directly ahead and still visible.  


They entered and headed directly to the business district, which was in chaos. A few shop owners were holed up, fending off Jaegers. He spotted Dimo and two others, the flesh-colored one from before and purple one he didn’t recognize, getting ready to go down the chimney of the blacksmith’s shop. “Tch.” He chuckled silently. That guy was doomed.  


As the horses turned a corner the walking clank came into view. It blocked the whole street, legs working, and the gunner was waiting on top of the cab impatiently for them. “Hy need to get to de suburbs, but de dem legs vent out!” He ranted. This was assessment enough. The walker was old and its knee joints had probably been crushed like plates from the effort of running.  


“Hokay.” One of the mechanics began to administrate for his higher up, dismounting. “You keep guard while ve work.” Virgil tied off his horse loosely to a light pole and approached the cabin, pulling on his new gloves bearing the Heterodyne trilobite as he climbed in. He had to shut it off so no one lost a hand while it kicked.  


He rejoined the others where they were prepping what would be needed to replace the knee joints. He slid underneath the leg with a lift and raised it, so that the calf wouldn’t come crashing down on him and it stayed in place. He used an almost comically large wrench to work loose the rusty, broken bolts. He kicked the discarded pieces away and emerged, taking a mask from the saddle bag of his horse, a can of lubricant from another, and stuck out his hand as he headed back in just in time to receive the fresh bolts.  


They set up another lift to stand the clank on its feet again when he was finished, while the pilot stood by in case a cocky local tried to take advantage of a downed clank. No one seemed too interested in it, this street was mostly of stores no one was interested in raiding. Sewing supplies, a local vegetable market, etc. The only one of interest was a liquor store, which everyone in this party was already discussing raiding once this job was done. Most everything else in the clank department that had been brought was in good condition, and it was satisfying overkill considering how little opposition there was.  


Virgil used to torch to seal some cracks that had formed around where the screws went when they snapped. These materials were old. They needed a few minutes to cool while he cracked open the lubricant. He took a rag, soaked it in the can for a moment, and rubbed down the screws. The red hot metal was already returning to its natural color. He blew on it once for good luck before screwing in the new bolts.  


He rolled out from underneath it, ready to partake in the true joys of rioting. The work was done and all that was needed now was to stand it back up. That should take no time at all. He tucked away his things and joined the others, cranking the clank back into standing position. The pilot waved and went on his way.  


“Hokay men, let’s get that brendy!” They charged down the street, grinning like mad men. Virgil followed them in after one smashed a window to unlock the door. The proprietor appeared to have left when the army appeared. Smart guy.  


They all rolled barrels in from the store room, taking seats on some and cracking others open. Virgil joined in, but was still confused as to why drinking on the job was okay. One of the other new mechanics took note of this. “The first part of the fight is getting rid of the sparks who don’t want to be under our rule, that’s not our business. The city’s soldiers are probably regrouping for their final resistance. We can just kill time until they start trying to fight back, so long as we don’t get drunk off our rockers, then the fun starts.”  


Virgil pointed back towards the exit, inquiring about whether they should go back and wait for orders. This time another, Andre, answered. “If we’re needed they’ll radio us. The others are just outside in case something happens to us.” Andre poured himself a fresh shot and kicked it back.  


He nodded, taking a few sips from the mug he had been handed. Hmm, good stuff. Maybe he’d buy some later on.  
~~~  


After a bit they spotted a large but rather disorganized group of citizens walking through the streets. They moved out of sight and continued to watch as they passed. Most had guns, and looked like they meant business. Poor people thought they were ready to face the Heterodyne army. Virgil smirked at his squad. “And there’s the militia!” One of his partners whisper-yelled. “Time to go before they can get too far. A squad of Jaegers should be somewhere behind them, but that doesn’t mean we can’t join in.” A murmur of excitement went through them like a wave.  


“Hm.” Virgil turned back to the window before grunting in surprise. The men were taking their horses. He jammed an elbow into the stomach of the one closest to him.  


“Okay, let’s go.” One muttered, drawing his dagger.  


Virgil shed his jacket and took the sickle up, kind of grinning. Sure, killing wasn’t exactly a moral thing to do, but according to the others it was fun as hell. You just had to think about fulfilling your duty to Mechanicsburg and protecting its people. The others tossed away their steins and got up in arms.  


They walked out into the streets behind the group, only following until the Jaegers arrived. Four couldn’t take on thirty, simple math. “Hey!” Virgil jumped as someone pushed the manhole he was standing on. He stumbled away, smiling again once he realized that it was a Jaeger. “Ready for some psy-co-logical warfare?” The monster asked as he climbed out, followed by several others. The locals heard them, turning and beginning to yell. Several turned as another group of soldiers appeared on the other side of them. “We move now!” Like a wave the small local force was overtaken.  


Virgil followed them into what he knew well was going to be a massacre. He jumped onto a bench to get an improved vantage point before taking one of the enemies by the hair as he ran by, twisting his head back. They man yelped, losing his footing at being yanked back so suddenly. The mechanic took a deep breath before cleaving his head clean off with the sickle, only taking a second yank to clear the spine.  


He took a deep breath before realizing the head, mouth still working, was splattering blood all over his boots. ‘Eew ew ew ew.’ He tossed it away. Jumping down, he waded into the violence and took out another of the militia, gutting him like a pig for Christmas dinner. This was quite invigorating; he felt like vomiting.  


Jaegers around him were roaring, tearing at people, and the militia men were shooting anything that moved. It looked like three of their own people had been shot, and their hats littered the ground. He grinned, grabbing a particularly neat looking white one with the town’s symbol on its bill. The mechanic fit it over his lost cause of a Mohawk and continued the killing spree, narrowly avoiding getting stabbed at least twice. One soldier jabbed their knife at his stomach and snagged his shirt, ripping it down the middle as he pulled away.  


He jumped over a corpse, suddenly finding himself outside the ring of battle. There was the guy that took his horse! Trying to saddle up and get out of there before it was his head on a platter. No one else seemed to be taking notice, so he kicked the man in the back of the knee while he was distracted. It appeared that Virgil was pretty good at fighting when the person he wanted to hurt wasn’t looking.  


When the attempted escapee fell Virgil planted his weapon in the man’s back before yanking it out, shielding his face from the spray of blood, and taking the horse by its reigns. The action seemed to be lessening behind him. “Hey, hyu!” One of the Jaegers, coming out of the fight holding a bleeding shoulder, pointed to him. “Go tell de general dot ve finished cleaning op de business district.”  


He bit his lip but nodded, not thinking for a second about disobeying a higher up. The mechanic hopped up, hoping he would get lucky again and this beast wouldn’t throw him off. He took a moment to remember the map he had seen, where the general would be. His memory drew a blank, so he had to take a wild guess and say the town square. Probably coordinating and giving the townspeople a good what-for on what the new order would be, knowing General Osk.  


He tried to move fast, but couldn’t help but be cautious. It was going to take a little longer than needed to get there, but since most of the fighting was over that was no problem. He just needed to locate the town square and the General, who was quite hard to miss, in the next ten minutes or so.  


The horse trotted along, still calming down from the excitement. Its sweat made his pant legs sticky. He turned down the main street, following the sound of horses whinnying and civilians that didn’t want to lose more than they already had murmuring. Suddenly Virgil thought about how he had lived through his first raid. Even killed people and gotten a pretty nice new hat! Today had actually been pretty great.  


The mechanic finally got into the town square, riding up behind the bandstand. General Osk was directing the people from a place there, lost in the moment. He jumped off the horse and onto the stand, running up behind the Jaeger and grabbing his shoulder. General Osk was greatly surprised by being grabbed, interrupted. He whirled around, took one look at his hat, and socked him in the nose.  


~~~  


Virgil woke up a little bit later, on the way back. His right eye was purple and swollen as a plum. His broken nose was bandaged. He groaned and rubbed the back of his head and realized his hat wasn’t there, sitting up. Kaff laughed at him from the seat adjacent. He had on the same sort of hat, apparently from his own part of the fight, tucked neatly above his ears. The blonde chuckled again, tapping the place on the bill with a long finger where he had wrenched off the original sigil. “It’s always a good idea to take off a plate with the enemy’s sign.”  


The mechanic rolled his eyes good naturedly. “You’re lucky that he saw your gloves before he took your head off.” Okay, maybe it would be a good idea to think the hat through a little better next time.


	4. Chapter 4

Five years later Virgil drummed his thick calloused hands across a pipe, grabbing a wrench and tightening one of the bolts along its length just in time for the great engine to gargle and belch steam. The mechanic rolled away on his work chair, tucking the tool into his personal monogrammed box.  


With a smile he dusted off his brown knee-length leather apron, dismissing the metal shavings that had accumulated on the lap before using two fingers to pull the work goggles off his face and into the mass of black hair he had no name for the style of. He was considering cutting it back, but then again he had been for years and continued to let his luscious locks flow.  


He hadn’t even covered the mess up with a hat, still having yet to find one that suited his tastes. There simply hadn’t been one that meant enough come along. His higher ups respected this, but he still figured it to be contributing to his only being corporal still.  


Over the years Virgil had refined his talent and become known for his work and attention paid to the jobs at hand. He often worked so meticulously that he would forget to eat or sleep for days until someone dragged him out of the lab or vehicle.  


Here he had just finished installing new piping in the engine of one of the largest dirigibles in the armed air forces. He was up to his elbows in grease, going far past the length of his once-brown gloves. The man’s face was blackened too, cut only by runners of sweat and the rings around his eyes from the goggles.  


The twenty-five year old stroked his neat goatee for a moment, straightening it out, before pulling off the gloves and storing them in the box. The apron came off as he stood and it was hung over one elbow. He exited the engine room, boots clattering along the grated walkways towards the exit.  


Outside the sun had just reached its peak and made him flinch in the daylight. Only now did Virgil realize that he had been working for forty-eight hours, the last several alone. He was hit with a wave of exhaustion only overpowered by his need to eat. The mechanic dragged himself to the castle, intending on getting an early dinner in the kitchens before slinking off to his room for a few hours.  


The sleeping accommodations had improved since his arrival. The corporal no longer shared a room with three new recruits, he had been fitted into a dorm with others of his rank and ability. He had lost contact with his family, his sisters having moved because of a schooling offer. Kaff was still his closest acquaintance despite having advanced to the place of Master Sergeant. They often were assigned to the same missions and shared meals and stories under the awnings of the air fleet when it rained.  


Virgil wondered if he was out there now, acting professional but hiding some stolen storybook from the library for them to enjoy in the shadows. Under his white and green uniform, probably amidst the buckles or under the plates of decorative armor, there was a storybook waiting. The mechanic decided to check, just in case, and walked a little faster down the hall. He waved his badge at the air so that the castle wouldn’t find it funny to squash him as he passed by the less obvious booby traps.  


Inside it was well lit by torches. Iscariot, in his age, loved things old fashioned despite the protests of his now fully grown sons. They had little control over the castle yet, but had obvious plans for when their old man finally kicked the bucket, including a remodel of the towns next door with a potent gas of unknown abilities that was only occasionally seen from under lab doors. The soldiers and servants steered clear of the stuff. But for now Iscariot kept them safely behind locked doors so no one went clashing with his projects.  


After several more minutes he made his way into the bustling kitchen that was preparing for dinner, slow-roasting meats and cheeses, baking bread, and flash pickling cabbage since it was in season. He plucked up a plate and began picking off food here and there. A few rolls, a chunk of lamb, three large sausages still resting from the smoke house, and a bunch of pickled peppers.  


He moved fluidly through the crowd that hadn’t paid him much mind yet (though some were noticing the blackened forearms and giving him dirty looks) before making his way to the desserts. They were a luxury reserved mostly for the generals and Heterodynes, but there was surplus that had their ways of getting in. The tea cakes General Goomblast prepared most evenings beckoned to him and he had become a specialist at taking them without a soul noticing.  


Virgil made his way towards the table before veering slightly and passing by it, dropping his plate just below the edge and scraping off several cakes of the jelly and fruit-filled sort, a handful with custard, and at least four with chocolate and nuts sprinkled expertly over the tops before exiting out the back door discretely. All were probably littered with bugs, but they were his favorite part. He smirked and popped one into his mouth before heading back in the direction of the dirigibles.  


“Stealing the general’s cakes again?” The castle acknowledged him flatly as the man trotted down the hall. He nodded, used to the building asking him about it. “They don’t even notice.” The mechanic smirked as if to say ‘Good.’ Then made his way outside and back to the field full of tied-off air machines.  


There was the Master Sergeant, waiting for him as patiently as always. Kaff was an oddly beautiful fellow, easy to spot once you knew him well enough. He had sparkling blue eyes, almost oddly unblemished skin, and a small nose that made his eyes seem bigger than normal. His mouth was also small, with thin lips pursed in a faint and mischievous smile most of the time. Thinking about it too much left the mechanic confused and a bit hot under the collar. “Virgil, ma boy!” He grinned, plopping himself down onto the grass and withdrawing a storybook from his pants. “Finally done replacing dose busted pipes, or did dey just force you out into the light for a break?”  


Virgil smirked and dropped down, biting into a sausage. Over the last five years, being surrounded by jaegers as they were, the two had picked up stronger Mechanicsburg accents than ever before. He motioned to his forearms, saying that if he wasn’t done he wouldn’t be there. Kaff chuckled good-naturedly and scooted a little bit closer, so Virgil could see the cover of the book he had stolen this week. It was “The Giantess and the Mole”, a very old story that was probably some weird political metaphor that was long forgotten except by scholars and irritating professors. They had read this one before but it was one of Kaff’s favorites and therefore stolen at least monthly.  


They kept the reading downplayed because of the reputation it earned them. You were a smart and respectable person if you were a spark, and it was the duty of the generals to brush up occasionally on history and news through books, but why read if you didn’t have to? Most of the soldiers were illiterate or only able to sign their name, and the thought of reading was a chore. So a pair of mechanics, one ranking fairly low, reading together was quite a sight to gawk at. There was a reason the two came out here to do their reading.  


Virgil offered a cake to his friend, thinking about it before he ate them all. He tried to show a little sophistication (which meant any amount of restraint from cramming himself) around the other man. Kaff was clean-cut and harsh only when he needed to be, usually jovial in his own quiet way. Virgil, on the other hand, took more enjoyment in his own work than fitting in. He was shy and that was weird, he took abuse far too quietly and that was even worse, and he knew it. So his only chances of climbing the ladder were talent and smarts, the latter of which came and went.  


The higher officer took it gratefully, biting down and accidentally squashing some of the sweet potato filling onto his chin and laughing, wiping it away before beginning to read aloud. Virgil put a hand in front of his mouth and laughed, hiding his smile. He took the pickled peppers and began to pop them down quickly, one at a time and without chewing. He was still starving, and polished off the meats in no time before using the rolls to mop up the juice. “For somevun so skinny hyu eat an awful lot.” The sergeant commented, pausing the story, as his companion crunched into his third tea cake.  


Virgil used a fingernail to pick at bits of some unknown creature’s carapace that had become caught between his front teeth thoughtfully before flicking it away, raising an eyebrow at the other man. He often went days without eating because of work, and always crammed himself directly afterwards. He plucked up a stick and quoted General Zog in the dust. “You never know when you’re going to eat in battle, so take what you can.”  


The other just rolled his eyes and began to turn back to the book, slipping another cake as he did so. As Virgil leaned in for the great climax where the giantess tried to flood the mole’s home, a shadow was cast over them. He looked up, eyes going wide, and swallowed. Kaff stood up straight and saluted woodenly under the gaze of Iscariot Heterodyne himself. “I would like to speak with the two of you.” Was all he said before motioning for them to follow him.


	5. Chapter 5

“Come in.” The Heterodyne motioned to Virgil. He was leaning out from the big wooden door of his personal office, deep within the castle’s center. It was smaller than most of the work rooms built by his ancestors. As he invited the other man, Kaff emerged walking quickly away. Virgil began to ask what was going on, but Kaff just grinned at him knowingly and walked on. This made him shut his mouth firmly and stand. The master sergeant had been inside more than half an hour, and the mechanic had been given time to rinse his hands and face. He rubbed his neck embarrassedly, casting his eyes away and following the Heterodyne in.  


Iscariot Heterodyne was someone Virgil was proud to serve. For a spark, he was surprisingly responsible, and he treated his people well. He protected Mechanicsburg, as all the Heterodynes had before, from outside forces. He was amazing at planning, accepting nothing less than a swift and destructive victory. He had absorbed towns faster and with the fewest causalities to his own forces than any Heterodyne before in his many (76) years of absolute rule. Virgil found that incredibly respectable, on an even personal level.  


Inside he looked around, mostly unsurprised by the contents of the office. There were candles on every flat surface, most melting over the edges of their stands. There was a series of animal and monster heads and… a few human ones mounted on the wall. “You’ve been serving me for five years.” Iscariot Heterodyne stated the obvious as he sat down behind a wide black desk, leaving the mechanic to sit awkwardly on the other side in a plush red chair. “And you’ve been very loyal. Normally I would wait years longer before making this offer. But I need fresh jaegers who know my designs almost as well as I do, to maintain my army once my sons take over.” He leaned forward, brushing a lock of normally wild white hair out of his face to look the younger man dead in the eyes. “I believe I want you to take the Jagertroth.”  


Virgil sat up straight. He slammed his feet flat onto the floor and placed his hands on the desk, nodding excitedly. This was what he had been working so hard for; a step up the ladder. A taste of immortality. Importance. He had expected it would be decades, if ever, before he got his chance to take the jaegerdraught. Especially since it was only given to the best of the soldiers. It was an honor to be offered.  


“But,” He stopped the mechanic’s excited bouncing, wagging one bony finger. “You have brains.” Virgil bit his lip and looked down. “As said it’s your choice. Those brains, they wouldn’t be going to waste as a Jaeger, but there are certain… impediments. You exhibit many signs and brilliances of a spark who has yet to break through. I chose you to carry on my work, and if you do so you will never know if you truly are one of us. But you also have the option of becoming a personal mechanic and aiding me in the labs.” He wanted him, but was more concerned with keeping those who understood his work after he died.  


Virgil shook his head apologetically, sitting back and folding his hands politely in his lap. He would have loved to be a personal mechanic for Iscariot, even if it was a rather dangerous promotion, but what was that to virtual immortality? He would be happy to take the Jagertroth, then the Jaegerdraught. That’s what he wanted.  


“Very well then,” The old man sat back in his chair. “You’ve picked your poison, and if you want to change your mind at any time that’s perfectly acceptable.” He smiled faintly. “You know the risks?” He nodded again. Death was a huge possibility but only a small worry. “Then in one week you can take the oath .” It would still count even if he didn’t say it aloud, that was a given. “Along with the other handful I’ve selected.”  


He was dismissed, and almost the moment he was outside Virgil realized that Kaff must be one of this handful, having also met with Iscariot. He was suddenly filled with a sickening worry over the wellbeing of his friend. Maybe he should reason with him, remind him how few lived?  


The mechanic continued to stew in this fear as he headed to the showers, scrubbing grease and oil away until his hair returned to its natural curl and the faint grey over his ears reappeared. One in ten takers of the draught survived. The subjects were already an elite few, and it never seemed to be based on resolve or size. The only thought was that it must be genetic, though they had no way of telling what gene it exactly was. Neither of them had jaeger family members, that he knew of. He despaired as he dried and dressed, and was stricken with grief as he slipped under his blankets.  


As he way trying to drift off, Virgil felt suddenly selfish. Kaff was his best friend as well, so what made him think that the master sergeant wasn’t worried for his safety too? What authority did he have to try and warn him off but still risk himself willingly? They both deserved equal chances. It hurt the pit of his stomach.  


~~~  


“-I svear!” The company of twenty men finished. They were all up very early this morning. The soldiers had chosen this time so they still had their nerves, just after breakfast, full and awake. Iscariot’s group of the chosen had just finished their oath, spoken in unison with the exception of the mechanic that had mouthed along just as seriously as everyone else.  


The Heterodyne nodded approvingly. “At ease.” They were here in the deepest and oldest of the castle’s labs, one that was being used less and less since Vlad Heterodyne had formulated the jaegerdraught. There were barrels of the brew throughout the lab, very few had been emptied. It appeared that no new batches had been made in years, as all the barrels were darkened with age. Cells made especially for the restraint of new jaegers lined the wall, forty in total. They were for this one purpose, given away by the heavy metal doors that were scratched up and even dented in places.  


They rested, releasing themselves from attention stance stiffly. Virgil removed his fist from his heart and leaned forward, looking down the line at Kaff. They had spoken very little about reservations in the last week. Kaff was so excited for this. The other waved back at him, motioning that the mechanic should give him a big grin, for good luck. He swallowed and managed a painful looking smile. After a few moments it became genuine. This was nerve wracking, but also exhilarating, and he had to remind himself of all that was promised to him if- no, when- he woke.  


Iscariot took several small vials from the counter and began filling them one by one from a barrel. Exactly what made up the jaegerdraught was a very well protected secret; the only confirmed ingredient was Dyne water. The smell rising from it was odd and far, far from good. Several held their noses as their doses were brought close, making the Heterodyne chuckle faintly. He turned, holding up the first vial and motioning for the first of the line to come forth if they still wished to.  


Virgil observed as the person beside him trotted forward, looking back at the others for approval before taking the vial. Iscariot nodded, clasped the larger man’s hands in his (in comparison) small, scrawny ones, and guided him to a cell before locking him in. They all flinched as a scream of pain filled the air, but the Heterodyne only continued his work and allowed Virgil to come forward.  


“There you go.” The Heterodyne offered him a small bottle, full of dark green liquid. It bubbled threateningly, and he swallowed. “You’re ready?” He led him over to one of the cells. Virgil looked even more worried than before, and looked towards his much higher up for guidance. “Trust me; you’ll be tearing people up in no time.” He patted the man’s back once, clearly without much to say, then a second time hard enough to startle the mechanic into the cell and shut the door.  


Once it was securely locked Virgil felt a smile crease his lips. So here was his key to virtual immortality and power? A teeny little potion bottle? Considering the results all the hundreds of others had gotten… May as well drink up. He ripped out the cork before his brain had time to decide that no, this was a horrible decision, that he was going to suffer and die. It was down his throat before the thought could complete itself.  


No time to dwell on the future now; it was here. He yelped as the draught hit his system hard, fist seizing up before swinging involuntarily and smashing the bottle against a far wall. Virgil instantly began to hyperventilate, falling over with his bum up in the air as his innards screamed. It attempted to force him to vomit up the Jaegerbrau, but before he could he rolled onto his back, digging developing claws into the stones.  


He growled in pain, curling into a fetal position. The Jaeger grabbed at his sleeves, ripping long runs in the jacket. He squeezed his eyes shut as even the roots of his hair began to hurt. For a moment he felt like there was going to be some relief in passing out, but suddenly he reared back and attempted to scream again. It felt like his skull was cracking open.  


Virgil managed to work against his tremors to reach up and feel the nubs of quickly growing horns. He winced as the flesh over his ears parted further and further around the base of his horns and drenched him in a pool of blood. He lurched again and dug his head into the corner. ‘Dem dem dem dis vas such a bad idea…’ was the last thing he remembered thinking before the cell became void.  


~~~  


Iscariot clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Looks like we lost another one.” He unlocked the cell, going in to look Virgil over. He wasn’t moving, and there was too little breath, if any at all, to be felt when a hand was put over his mouth. “And so close too.”  


“Maybe he’d make a goot construct?” One of the lab assistants suggested. Anyone hated to see a fellow soldier die in the process, but he could possibly be revived and put to good use, or at least made into parts.  


“Hold on, he may not be dead just yet.” Kirzhan spoke up. The jaeger generals always came to oversee the waking of their new brothers. “Hyu remember last time hyu started cutting pipple up vitout checkink?”  


“Fine.” The old man muttered hard headedly. “We’ll shock him first.” He was tossed one of several spare battery rods.  


Iscariot caught it by the handle almost thoughtlessly. “Okay, one shock.” He jabbed Virgil in the neck, delivering a painful jolt to his system.  


The air filled with the smell of burnt hair. The Jaeger bolted up, shooting into the corner like an animal. His hair was standing on end, smoking. His hands were planted firmly against the stone, ready to launch himself off into attack. He was already snarling, brows knit, facial hair matted by his own blood. Iscariot grinned and stepped out before the monster could throw itself at him, even though experience told him it knew better.  


Virgil felt all his senses being attacked. Every part of him ached, but he was driven by an immense amount of adrenaline to protect himself. His thoughts were cloudy, and an extraordinary feeling of excited aggression filled him. The monster’s body still seemed confused as to what had happened to it, why it was suddenly so strong and ready to kill. It would need a few days to settle in.


	6. Chapter 6

Several days passed. The new jaegers were kept isolated for the first few, so they had time to register what had happened and adjust. This included for some streaks of screaming and near- madness, ranting, and shorter bouts of absolute quiet. Virgil seemed incredibly calm compared to most others, making very few attempts to kill those around him and having only one success. This was mostly part of the mourning process.

A wonderful four out of twenty survived the process. Five at first, but he went mad after becoming trapped in a half-turned state. When they were released to see each other for the first time hours after waking, to comment and compliment upon their changes in appearance, the mechanic’s fears had been confirmed. Kaff was among the dead. 

Iscariot gave him the chance to see the body before it was taken away. The blonde soldier had hardly changed, was exactly as Virgil remembered, and he was grateful for it. It was promised that his service would be honorable but that was hardly a comfort. Despite themselves the people charged with his care for the first few days were thankful for his shocked state, as it was easy to urge him into dressing and onto the slab for his physical and any needed medication with minimal restraints. But with time that sadness, to, faded. 

As he came back to himself Virgil reminded himself that there was no point in continuously hurting himself over the loss. Mourning and even tears were perfectly acceptable after such an event, but he was a jaeger now; there was no need for such distraction. The master sergeant had known the risks just like anyone else. That was little comfort, but by the time Iscariot elected to release them upon the townspeople he had seemingly come back to himself. 

The Heterodyne grinned at him when he came outside with the other three, smiling for the first time that day as his eyes met sunlight. They all had on new uniforms consisting of a dark green button up, black pants, and brand new boots. The sign of the Jaegermonsters was neatly attached to the right sleeve. This new attire was a formality, a uniform any new jaeger received.

Iscariot smiled proudly at the lot. “Men, today you’re all to patrol the town. Do as you wish, but report back anything out of order. Understood?” 

“Yezzir!” Three shouted back. These orders were merely a professional way of saying that today was the day they got to let off steam before beginning rank-and-file work beneath the command of the generals. 

Virgil, like the others, had heard much about what he looked like now but had no real idea yet. Glass had been kept out of their reach for good reason. There had been talk about orange eyes, and he knew his skin was now a pleasant shade of grey, but that was it. Naturally he knew he looked good, but just how good? His first goal of the day was to find himself a mirror. 

That would be followed by a decent meal in town and a couple of pints. He had no big plans to disturb the peace, unless it really struck him. Rough housing and civil disobedience was being saving for the nightly bar fight at a Mama’s bar, for jaegers only. There was a special swearing in for new brothers after the audience with the Heterodyne.

Virgil, as he exited the gates and went in his own direction away from the others, took a deep breath. Everything smelled much more strongly, and he reveled in the scent of baking breads and cheeses being sold here in the town square. There were horses around the corner, a wind-up car smoking three streets down. And the people, they all had different smells. Flowery like soap, like fresh grown cotton and mud, and even a few he made timid eye contact with, had a new smell he would come to recognize as fear in the future. 

People parted out of habit for the monster soldier. Jaegers were typically treated as heroes, the monster elite in Mechanicsburg and walked the streets just like everyone else. Usually jaeger antics were fun and taken lightly by the people, putting most at ease because a serious jaeger meant trouble was afoot. This however was different. This was a new jaeger, identifiable by the fresh uniform, and he deserved a wide berth because of even more violent tendencies associated with newly sworn in soldiers. Soon he would become familiar and accepted like all the others. 

Virgil passed through the business district surrounding the center of town, trotting lazily. He stepped into a glass shop to look into one of the many full-length mirrors along the wall. “Hmmm….” He smiled, examining his face closely. A pair of bright, entirely orange cat’s eyes peered back. He licked the fangs that had grown longer than the rest, poking out from his bottom lip. His hair had remained its original color but it had a new, somehow less greasy quality to it. 

He turned his head thoughtfully to get a fuller look at the horns that had sprouted miraculously from just above his ears. They were pale orange and bumpy, young and short jutting just slightly out above his hair, not yet a threatening point. Yes, these would be excellent weapons someday. Virgil decided that he liked his new appearance quite a lot, and that this uniform made him look sharper than ever before. All that was needed was a hat to tie it together, and he felt the overwhelming need to find that hat. It was no longer an option, it was a requirement. 

With a nod to the shop owner he stepped out and was on his way again, stopping only a moment later to enter a pub that was said to make an excellent beef tongue sandwich and was home to the best garlic mustard outside of Beetleburg. He had never been inside, hadn’t been able to afford it. The very thought of a good, meaty meal made his stomach growl and he took seat alone. As was the policy, a jaeger got their first round of food and drink free. The rest they would have to pay for, which was usually no problem considering their looting habits. 

As the mechanic was preparing to polish off the enormous sandwich in his claws, he noticed a short, dark haired girl across the bar giving him a look. It was not a bad look. She smiled, and he took a distracted bite and smiled back. This she took as an invitation to join him, and that she did. He took another bite while looking her up and down curiously. “Hey big boy.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “New jaeger huh?” He leaned back as she scooched up right beside him. “I heard you guys can be a little ferocious huh?” 

He swallowed and nodded. He tried to pick the sandwich back up, to look busy. She placed a pale hand on his knee. “I really admire the bravery you all show.” He smiled a little stupidly and took another bite and swigged the beer. Discreetly he moved a little further away, motioning a thank you. Jaegers, young ones especially, were very popular for one reason or another.

She noticed and put the other hand on his knee to prevent his escape, watching him finish eating. He emptied the beer and smiled, trying to get up and ready to go. “Leaving already?” She cooed. “Don’t you want to celebrate a little?” 

Celebrate? He looked at her with a look of curiosity that bordered innocent. She grinned. “Yeah, celebrate. A little reward for being such a tough soldier.” He felt a little smile twitch at his lip, and with that she leaned forward and kissed him.

~~~

He continued to run until he came to the city’s outer wall. Virgil bent forward, panting hard. He wheezed softly before standing back up straight, fixing his collar. Maybe later he would feel bad for taking off on that girl, but she had scared him. He very much appreciated the thought, it just wasn’t on his mind at the moment. Perhaps later; survivors were inclined to become part of the breeding program, to sire at least one potential recruit for the future. 

He straightened his outfit again nervously and looked up at the city walls, beginning to make his way to the outskirts of town. Virgil was going to visit the old farm, the one he hadn’t seen up close in years. It was high time, so much had changed. From what he knew he technically owned the property, but since his mother and sisters had gone to India for schooling and, according to the latest letter, Mary was engaged to a prince. It was a safe assumption that Damien ran the place. That was who he was looking for.

With life so much better, he should have let things go. That really wasn’t in the mechanic’s nature. He had been roiling in anger and hurt for years over the brute he had to call a cousin, especially after the voice incident. It was really all Virgil’s fault, but he had a bone to pick with the agitator and it wasn’t going to be let go until it was resolved.

He strolled down the dirt road that began at the mouth of the open gate, not minding the leers of a pair of enormous skeletal gargoyles that shifted slightly as he passed. It was cool out today and the dry earth between ruts stuck to his heels, forming clouds and plumes after every step. Virgil let out a held breath when he saw the garage first, then the townhouse attached to it. The building had always looked like it was getting ready to collapse from old age. Beyond it were the six coops, which had been enlarged along with the chicken yard. What grass remained was untended and full of wildflowers. Things had not changed much otherwise, and he was thankful for that. 

Virgil pushed open the gate without a second thought and it squealed as always. He sniffed and frowned. Chickens smelled even worse now. He crossed the yard and twisted the handle of the house door. It was not locked, but his arrival went thus far unnoticed. That meant Damien must be in the coops. The thought of him being unaware of a jaegermonster’s presence almost filled him with a luxurious sense of power. 

He took another deep breath. The house’s scent had changed greatly and he hated it. His memories felt tainted. The mechanic walked right through the kitchen and into the garage, observing that his tools had not been replaced. His buggy was still here, used often. Most had a fine coat of dust on them, as Damien didn’t have the talent or patience with machines that he did. Tapping a claw against his lip he selected a crowbar and went back the way he entered. 

From the window over the washtub he spotted Damien. He had become heavier since they last saw each other, but still had a brutish presence. He seemed more intelligent now as well, just from the way he carried himself, perhaps having gained a sense of responsibility since becoming the farm’s proprietor? Virgil deemed that a possibility that would be ignored. He was wearing a rather nice hat.

When the man disappeared into another coop Virgil slipped outside, strolling up towards the entrance. The ugly birds around his feet parted with squawks of fear, and this somehow encouraged him more. The stroll became more of a determined march, not lazy or fast enough to become a slope yet. Something about his demeanor changed. It was no longer relaxed, or silly, or even withdrawn. It was the walk of a monster who didn’t plan on going on its way without somebody dead at its feet. 

He stepped into the entrance of the coop dramatically, blocking the entrance with his silhouette. Damien looked up. “Oh- ah- hello.” He stood to his full height of six feet four inches and approached. “You must be here for those chickens Zog ordered.” Apparently he didn’t recognize his own cousin. “Here.” Two of the fat birds were thrust into Virgil’s hands, the crowbar having gone unnoticed. 

He growled softly but stepped back and let Damien pass on his way out the door. The jaeger dropped the chickens and followed him to the top step out the door before raising his blunt weapon and bashing it against Damien’s skull unceremoniously. His victim collapsed like a rag doll before grasping at the back of his aviators hat where blood was pouring from a dent in his head and rolling over. “What the hell?! Dots your order!” He struggled up onto his butt and found Virgil towering over him before feeling a boot planted in his gut. 

He sputtered and squabbled back. The mechanic tugged at his collar, loosening it enough to expose the puckered flesh of a scar running across his throat. Damien had a moment for his eyes to widen in realization before Virgil’s lips curled upwards into a slasher smile and the crowbar was brought down against his head again, and again. Once Damien was dead he pulled the leather hat off his head, scraped a few chunks of hair out of it, and pulled it on with a satisfying ‘rip’ of his horns puncturing the fabric before digging his heel into the shattered skull a few more times. He dropped the tool into the splattered remains of his cousin’s head, making a soft ‘squish’ noise. Virgil rubbed his heels into the dirt to remove what gore had gotten onto them and took a deep breath. He had never felt better, all the anger he had stewed in sloughing off his shoulders. 

Somehow he was more excited than ever, and jogged back into the city and towards the underground bar where he and the others would be recognized by their fellow jaegerkin in just a few hours.


	7. Chapter 7

Inside the bar crowds of Jaegermonsters chattered. The tavern was expansive, stretching over a cavern that reached all the way to the edge of Mechanicsburg’s walls. The floor was wood paneled, the walls cold stone studded with lamps of varying sizes and shapes. Several metal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, bolted very firmly into the stone roof. Everything here was either very cheaply or very sturdily made. All tables were fairly cheap and easily replaced for obvious reasons, as were the chairs.  


Virgil looked over it with fascinated pleasure. The air was warm and smelled like a farm. Not unsurprising, the place had probably just been washed down for tonight’s events. He was joined by the other three, who seemed just as excited or more so than he was. Deftly they stepped back as a pair of fellow soldiers came tumbling by, chased by a brown-haired major. “Hey, hyu guyz, iz not time for de fight yet!”  


There was continued roaring broken by snippets of recognizable words. “But Jorgi he stole my sammich-“  
“DOT VAS NOT HYU SAMMICH!” Etcetera.  


They carefully stepped around that and took seats at a table of honor. There were groups already singing drunkenly, a few games of knife, and makeshift card tables set up here and there. Girls buzzed around the tables, armed with their own small arsenals to keep the grabby hands of hundreds off. It appeared that a lot of the monsters had learned their lessons, but some still needed to be taught a few more times.  
Virgil squeezed in, ordered himself a few beers, and decided to try his hand at knife since he was no longer so delicate. A mechanic’s good hands were a wonderful thing to make bets on, until you accidentally lost one. He produced a black throwing knife that from the inside pocket of his uniform, getting the attention of his counterparts. They would find it was one of ten, and he was extremely good with them. Situations where he had to kill from a distance would be the only times he ever used them for something other than picking dirt out from under his claws and playing games, though.  
They all watched, seemingly fascinated, as he drained half of his first beer before slamming his hand down onto the table with a smirk. Experimentally he put the knife between his fangs and spat it between his pinky and ring finger. A roll of gasps prompted him into doing this again, and again, until there was a chink in the table between each of his fingers.  
Another one tried this and speared the flesh between his thumb and forefinger with a squeal of laughter. He licked away the blood before allowing Virgil to continue. He decided to play the game in the traditional way, taking the knife in his right hand and stabbing it into the table between his fingers again.  
Seeing how deliciously fun this could be, he retrieved the weapon and resumed it without any more fancy tricks or flicks of the wrist. Everyone’s eyes followed as he gained speed, eventually becoming a blur. A series of small cuts appeared on his fingers and the webbing, but nothing that made him a loser yet. This went on for several minutes before a joyous roar erupted from the stage.  
He looked up without stopping at the generals, who were under the spotlights. He ceased stabbing as Zog roared again to gain attention. Slowly the crowds softened to faint mumbles every now and then, which is the best they would get. “Brodders!” He announced. There was no need for a loudspeaker, his loud leathery voice carried across the cavern with no trouble. “Ve haff a verra special event tonight. As hyu all should know, dere are knew jaegerkin among us!”  
Shouts and excited screeches erupted and this time Mama Gkika took her turn to shut them up. “Ve vants to greet them properly, no?” She didn’t have to shout, most everyone listened obediently to her. Another wave of noise was followed by silence. “So let’s have dem come up here and receive a proper velcome into de ranks.”  
At this announcement Virgil grinned and stood, beginning to move forward before being jerked back with a flash of pain. He looked down and realized, almost in embarrassment, that he had pinned his hand to the table with the knife while he wasn’t looking. He plucked it out and resumed walking up to the stage, tearing a bandana from someone’s arm as he passed and tying it to stop the bleeding. He was tucking the knife back into its pocket as he leapt onto the raised platform, joining the others who were already here.  
“Now,” Mama began. “Ve must introduce dem first, jah?” A short response of assorted hoots sounded as she waved the first in line up. He had turned green, like a fair majority of the jaegers did. He licked his hand with a long purple tongue, wiping his hair back in a way he would become known for. “Dis handsome guy iz Andre,” The next, blue with a very odd looking mouth and green hair, trotted up and beamed. “Here ve gots Charles, like dot isn’t a name ve’ve heard before.” The joke was that they really didn’t hear that name too often, it was rather fancy for the area. Uproarious laughter followed as Charles stepped back and let the next one stand beside Mama. This fellow had managed by some miracle to look mostly human. He was tall, not too bright looking even for a jaeger, and had large eyes. “Timothy, isn’t dot a sveet name for such a beeg keed huh?” Continued laughter. He stepped back politely, looking embarrassed. Virgil took his turn. She wrapped an elbow around his head. “Dis is Virgil, he doesn’t say much, in fact he doesn’t say anytink at all. So hy say hi for him!” He squirmed out of her grip quickly and retreated back to his conveniently pre-marked place in line. She was so friendly, he had never seen her so friendly. It was terrifying.  
Zog pushed forward again, obviously very excited about what was going to happen next. “Now, ve jaegers is harder to humiliate den little humans, right?” This statement was met with the knowing cheers of hundreds. “But eet iz bound to happen at least vunce in efferyvun’s life.”  
Kirzhan pushed him aside, his usually business like look smeared over with an expectant grin. “So, ve decide to get eet over vit real early on for dey new guyz, huh?” The four new monsters looked at each other nervously. Virgil prepared to step back, maybe run if he felt the need to, but it was too late.  
Zapidok lifted up his bare foot and stomped on a button sunken into the floor that the monsters had failed to notice earlier. They were too busy staring to move. The four wooden panels they were standing on collapsed underneath them. Virgil, Andre, Charles, and Timothy all produced loud and satisfying squeals. They had suddenly been plunged into cold, wet darkness. The monsters barely had time to react as they were expertly stripped of their uniforms (In exception of their hats, of course.) before the platforms they had landed in rose back to the surface of the stage.  
All four found themselves sitting, quite naked, in tubs of cold soapy water. It smelled overwhelmingly of flowers and sweets, which made them all cringe. The crowds found this torment funny enough as it was, but then the dish washing clanks appeared. Virgil sank low in the water, horror-stricken, and two of the others tried to escape. Andre scrambled out of his washtub, already smelling of coconut, before he was grabbed by the ankle and dragged back with a scream. They were forced underwater and scrubbed brutally. Timothy choked out a yelped followed by a cloud of soap bubbles.  
After several moments of this very thorough and invasive scrubbing the new jaegers were dumped back onto the stage. “Hokay boyz,” Osk managed through bellows of laughter as they struggled to stand, skin glowing red in places where the dirt had been particularly tough. “Now dot hyu haff been probably cleaned eet iz time to head on back to de castle, Jah? Hy dun tink de nightly bar fight iz beffitink for a group dot schmells so goot.”  
Each dripping wet soldier attempted to argue, but sputtered instead. Charles was struggling to get lavender scented soap out of his eyes. They were too busy trying desperately to dry themselves and get this horribly strong scent of flowers and fruit off to even bother covering themselves, until someone wolf-whistled from the crowd. That led to a series of cat calls that made Virgil want to die of shame.  
“Alright, alright.” General Zapidok came forward graciously. “Ve haz had our fun. Hyu ken haff hyu uniforms back…” They grinned, until his look of grace became one of villainy. “At de kestle. Hyu ken go get dem now.”  
The four swallowed and looked at each other. That meant… Before the thought could be completed each was picked up, carried up the stairs, and tossed out a back door into the alley. Timothy had apparently landed bad and was groaning, head planted firmly on the stones. They helped him up, very carefully.  
So now here they were, faced with their first prank as the newbies. Get back to the castle without any of the townspeople seeing, or risk getting arrested and brought back for public indecency. They could probably stand to do it the quiet way. “Hy recommend ve schtay togedder, in case, hyu know, vun ov us runs into sumvun, dey ken varn de rest, jah?” Timothy said once he recovered, staring towards the castle and making a mental map.  
“No, no!” Charles held his head. “De schmell iz bad enough as it iz, ve all schmell different. Iz confusink!”  
“DEY GOT MY HAT VET!” Was the only input Andre offered.  
The other two held their heads in agreement. Virgil smelled strongly of oranges, Andre of coconut, Charles of lavender and Timothy, most painfully of all, like a fresh bouquet of roses. “Hokay,” The tallest chided. “Ve go back separate.”  
“Und FAR AVAY from each odder!” Andre whined loudly.  
Charles smacked him in the back of the head. “Dun be a vimp.” Even though he was holding his own nose. Virgil just shut his eyes and tried to imagine something better, say, horse stables. “Ve go now.”  
Virgil padded off, becoming more self-conscious now that he was alone. It was cold out tonight, and he wrapped his arms over himself in attempt to keep from looking like he wanted to be out here like this. Thankfully it was late, the streets were mostly quiet. He shut his eyes and laughed a little bit. This was a good joke. Funny, making them do this. He wondered if it was the same joke for every group of new jaegers, or a different one each time. He looked forward to seeing the next batch of monsters scrubbed just as brutally.  
Walking with his eyes still closed, Virgil didn’t even noticed that he passed the window of an orphanage until someone screamed, and he took off like a bullet of red and grey. He stopped a few blocks away, panting, before laughing as another crowd of screams rose from the other side of the building, followed by the frantic beating of a very desperately trying to explain Andre with a broom.  
He decided to make a game out of it, see if he could get to the castle first without being spotted. He jumped and wormed his way onto the low-hanging awning of the building beside him before making his way onto the roof. It was even colder up here, and it made the already burning wound in his hand scream, but at least he was out of the street lights and people’s windows. With a soft chuckle he jumped to the next building and continued in this manner all the way to the town square.  
With a well-thought out leap he made it to the ground, staring up at the castle and squinting. There were few lights on, one lab’s smokestack puffed the green smoke out gently, but otherwise it was all quiet. Knowing the castle it would want the sight out of its halls as soon as possible and leave them pretty much alone. This wasn’t going to be so hard, he could get his uniform back in his room probably. But… oh.  
All four uniforms were hug, fluttering like flags in the cold wind, from the flag pole of Iscariot’s tower. He sighed deeply. The last thing Virgil wanted tonight was to climb in his boss’s window, followed by three other monsters, completely naked, looking for their brand new clothes. But, perhaps, it was something the Heterodyne was used to.  
Whilst he stood there thinking, the others arrived. Charles was being chased by a rather angry and very large dog, and Andre by the woman with a broom, who took off at the sight of more very, very underdressed jaegers. Timothy seemed to be the only one who hadn’t been spotted or at least yelled at because he had stolen a pair of trousers from a clothes line somewhere along the way. He smirked at his own brilliance.  
After some bickering over how to get up without being seen, they just began climbing. Andre scaled it like a reptile, which, well, looked very odd. The other jaegers followed on their own, slightly less effective, ways. Timothy was really struggling and the others couldn’t help but laugh at him, stuck way down there. Scaling the building wouldn’t take too terribly long, unless of course the castle noticed.  
Virgil, claws sunken into a brick, suddenly felt it shake. “Ah. The new recruits.” The building mumbled. There was a collective groan. “I love the uniform challenge.” Suddenly the brick disappeared and the monster struggled to get his grip again. Andre, already at the top and about to scale the pole from which his pants waved crisply, was suddenly whacked in the chin with a brick. He rolled down the shingling but finally gained footing again.  
A shower of bricks being fired at them, the stones pulling back when they scrounged for a grip, could this night get any more fun? Only if the sun rose and they were still here. Virgil sighed and pulled himself up faster, unable to hold in a guffaw as the blue monster beside him was pelted with stones and toppled onto a ledge twenty feet below, getting up and yelling curses at the building before trying again.  
It took a long, embarrassing two more hours before they finally got to the top. Iscariot, at one point after a particularly loud curse, had poked his head outside and found two of them dangling from his window ledge and ended up in laughter on the floor at their expense before using a ruler to smack them off and going back to bed. Virgil was now, along with the others, returning to the ground now that they were fully dressed. The uniforms were damp and smelled just as much like their wearers, but with some hard work they would return to normal in a few days, if they were lucky.


	8. Chapter 8

When Iscariot finally died, it was surprisingly quiet. He was one of the few sparks who lived long enough to die of actual old age, something almost unheard of among the Heterodynes. As if to make light of this point, one of the man’s triplet sons had blown himself to smithereens the previous year in an accident involving the mysterious and threatening green gas, which had turned out to be a highly explosive cloud emitted by specially bred apple trees.  


The two remaining sons had stopped their bickering to honor the funeral, despite constant whispered grumbling that annoyed the jaegers greatly. Every one stood with a rigid back, fist firmly over their heart. There was a stout silence among the soldiers, something anyone who wasn’t familiar enough with their mentality would find incredibly unnerving. They had come out in great numbers, the entire army filling the town square where Iscariot’s coffin waited to be floated down the River Dyne. Of course the body was in the catacombs, but this coffin was a symbol that he had wanted. And it was filled with documents he didn’t want his sons to see.  
Virgil had been surprised by the terrible overwhelming amount of emotion he felt when the announcement had been given that Iscariot, now eighty, had died in the night. The jaeger knew he shouldn’t have been, he cared for Iscariot dearly as the rest of the army did, but the lingering scent of that specific Heterodyne that haunted like a ghost through the halls and would for years to come in come made him ache. He had no trouble moving on to serve the new Heterodynes, of course, as they were of the bloodline and therefore worthy of every jaeger’s servitude, but that one had been special for obvious reasons.  
No one cried over the loss, no one whined, but you could feel the exact weight of it in the air. Hundreds of eyes followed the coffin as it was gently urged into the water by a group of servants clad in black coats, boots digging into the mud. With a final shove it began to float on its own, rocking gently in the waters. Everyone watched until it disappeared around a bend several minutes later. No one moved just yet, listening to the monotone hum of music the represented the Heterodynes being played in the background. Eventually what one could call a song ended, when Joshua and Marshall Heterodyne called at ease.  
Now was the ugly part, deciding which of the two brothers was to become the official head of the family. This always happened between siblings: Iscariot had poisoned seven of his brothers and simply shot the eighth with a dart from inside a fountain during the harvest festival. This contest between brothers, however, was going to be much more interesting than that. Joshua and Marshall were identical in just about every way, they wore their hair differently and one preferred meat based weapons of destruction over vegetable ones, but their abilities were even.  
Joshua cleared his throat. “Men, we have come to an agreement that until one of us wins out and the doom bell is rung, you are not to be involved.”  
Marshall rolled his eyes. “The generals are to further our outside assets while this is settled.”  
Everyone grinned. That meant it was time for the groups to split up and go riding, to keep the ‘peace’. Rides were only a handful of months long, and usually included only a few scouting teams of thirty or forty. This one sounded like it was going to include all the monsters. After letting the news settle they both saluted. “Have fun men!” Each withdrew a weapon from his coat.  
Virgil laughed as hordes of jaegers marched out of the town square, towards the extensive stables. In the growing distance several wet slaps and the sound of popping corn came from the castle. Each general was beginning to split them into squads, based on interest and experience. They were picking the ones they wanted to ride with most, and the occasional weenie that was grouped with the stronger and more violent in hopes that it would toughen them up. Virgil was considered one of these weenies for his terrible tendency to not fight, even when the agitator could stand a good beating.  
He found himself thrust onto a six-legged horse and riding along fifteen positions behind General Kirzhan and his massive steed. “Hyu know vat iz up on de schedule, men?” The general turned and called. Everyone smiled in anticipation. “ZUM ZUM!”  
It had been four years already, time for the occupation of a defenseless town. The troupes would likely meet there in four or five months, depending on when the fast-traveling messenger birds began to bring signs of the end of the fighting, at which they would have to hurry back to greet the new head of the Heterodyne family. No one expected it to take less than ten months, though, and that was just fine for a good relaxing bout of plundering, pillaging, and tasting street foods from across Europa.  
Virgil peered at the map tucked in the side of his boot, determining where they were headed and what towns would be hit, where they were crossing the wastelands and so on. It appeared that there were plenty of towns to go through, and they were taking the pass through Passholdt since it was open this early in the spring. There were plenty of towns to run through, though they would skip a few, taking shortcuts through the wastelands so that on the trip back they had places to stop that weren’t already ravaged.  
The wastelands, in groups, were fun. There were plenty of monsters to eat, travelers to catch, and abandoned places to explore. Virgil was very much looking forward to it, and tucked away his map to ride off into the unknown.  
~~~  
“Vow, look at him go!” One of his fellow jaegers laughed, pointing at a thief who thought he was being sneaky. He had come in when the jaegers were thought to be asleep, and most were, but the watch guards were sitting in the trees. The man had gathered some of their food and the drunken monsters thought it was the funniest thing in the world that he thought he was getting away. Virgil, on the highest branch, pulled a knife out of his leather jacket and flicked it hard, ending his escape with a single blow. A few of his companions booed, having not been done watching yet.  
With a dismissive wave he jumped down, landing with a thump that would break a human’s ankles. He retrieved the knife and minced bug pies wrapped in foil, returning them before sitting by the fire. The human could be looted and cooked later. His shift was almost over, and he was tired. The monster had been on the road for three months now, riding with his fellow soldiers and the human teens that seemed to think it was great fun, not that it wasn’t.  
He scratched his chin with a yawn, producing a bristling sound and a faint tickle. He could probably stand to shave, he hadn’t for several weeks and his facial hair was becoming wild. The others insisted it was rugged and would attract the ladies though, a few about which they hadn’t been wrong.  
Virgil smiled pleasantly. He had found himself accompanied by a very pretty girl a few days after they left, finding out she was meant to cook for the generals and had missed her cart. He had let her ride along with him. She had ended up talking to him all day, and after a bit they realized that this was the very girl that had kissed him the first day out in town as a jaeger. That had made it even funnier, and they got on very well. She was a very nice girl, and he had figured they liked each other well enough, but it probably wouldn’t last. Three months later and he began to think that maybe he was wrong.  
Whilst he heated his hands over the fire, eyes closed, she approached from behind. He could smell her but humored the girl by pretending to be surprised when she tossed a blanket over his shoulders, tucking in beside him and tearing off most a piece of crusty, cheesy bread and offering it to him.  
The food disappeared from her hands and was gone in seconds, and she giggled faintly at the sight of Virgil spilling crumbs into his lap. He blushed, tried to smile, and swallowed. “You’re so dumb.” She said lovingly, snuggling up under his arm and nibbling her own bread. He wrapped his arm over her shoulder and pulled the girl, Sophia, in close. The curve of one horn, the pair having now grown out and up into excellent goring tools, resting on her hair. This received a few hoots from the spectators and he growled softly at them before pecking her on the cheek, deciding they would be fine if he missed the last ten minutes of his shift to go to bed early, taking her with him to cuddle innocently. They moved off towards the tents, his arm still slung over her shoulder in a very casual way. Inside he curled up, her forehead tucked under his chin, and the monster dreamed of the coming raids.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of the chapters from 2014, congrats! You're now fully caught up. Thanks for sticking with me! Reviews and fan art will help chapters come out even faster!

When they got to Zumzum two months later, the jaegers could hardly wait. They had made camp, all the groups having met the previous night and prepared for today and those to come. All humans had been sent home the week before, since the jaegers could make it back just fine without guards or cooks. Sophia made him promise he would bring her back something nice, and he would. This, as far as Virgil was concerned, was the break period in every good relationship that determined if they would last or not. Even if the jaegers were regarded as heroes he doubted her father would approve at all of what went on during the trip, not that he cared. The relationship had not lost its romantic spark in the last five months and that was perfect for him. Something would be missing until they were reunited, but it was not at the forefront of his mind now.  


He joined the ranks, cantering towards the front on horseback. This was his first tribute raid on Zumzum and got a head start on those who had gone before, not that this head start of five minutes made much of a difference. It just meant he got to help cut down the first set of soldiers that would try to keep them out.  
The sun was still nowhere to be seen. It was just past three AM, but the air already prickled with anticipation. Behind him torches were being lit, to set anything available aflame. He had his sickle tucked loosely in one hand, wondering what this wall of coming death looked like from the town.  
It looked like a regular militia camp, hundreds of small fires. The guards on the top of the gate knew otherwise. It was time, and in the shifting darkness weapons glinted in firelight and horses whinnied occasionally. All was quiet otherwise, building up to the cry of charge. No one knew why they continued to fight the jaegers when they entered; they always got in regardless of security measures. The jaegers were a plague they had grown fairly used to in Zumzum. People had begun spilling perfumes into the air around their homes before the raid, hiding out in soap maker’s shops and homes. There was, unfortunately, never enough room. Within the town the smell of ash and lye drifted from several homes of families slaving over their furnaces to make crosses of soap to ward off the monsters.  
No one needed to warn the people to stay inside. It was late, but few were sleeping. People were tying and, in some cases, nailing down their belongings. Several were sealing their doors and windows with sheet metal. The bravest, or dumbest, of them were preparing their restaurants and bars for a flood of gold. This all stopped when a collective excited roar shattered the mumbles of the night and the jaegers came plowing down the hillside, a wave of gnashing teeth and claws hungry to spill blood.  
Virgil howled, his eyes glowing like hellfire in the darkness. The horse carried him ahead of the pack of monsters. He grinned as he thundered past the guards before they could fire, his black shape lightning fast in the midnight darkness, towards the gate. He flashed by the guard before stopping abruptly, the horse stomping a few times and whinnying, drawing the man’s wild eyes for a moment before they found the jaeger staring down at him.  
There was a smile of white glimmering fangs that stretched across its face. A terrible thing, but one he had seen many times before. There was only one way to survive this sort of encounter, to open the gate. He grinned sheepishly. “I- I open the gate.”  
The smiling monster snorted approvingly and waited on him to do so. He scrambled over to the doors, the push them open, as a handful more soldiers stood watching. One grabbed his arm. “Think about the people inside man!” The monsters at the gate were multiplying, and the man was only frozen for a moment before resuming the opening of the gate. He had help this time. They were thinking about the people inside, yes, but they were also thinking of their own lives. And of what would happen to the town if the jaegers had to force their way inside.  
Virgil did not flinch when the doors banged open. A river of his fellows washed into the town, and he and his steed were driven along and into the square, the horse rearing once before galloping into the business district. He narrowed his eyes and watched as the cauldrons of dye and glue on the side streets were lit like torches, filling the air with an industrial stench. He sniffed indignantly and trotted directly through the doorway of a brauhaus, dismounted his horse, and took a pint from the server.  
The 3 AM town drunks looked up in mild horror, and the jaeger’s standing grin was almost soberingly dark. He eyed them for a few long seconds, slurped his frosty pint obnoxiously, and dropped to the floor.  
At the sound of shattering glass several of the other soldiers invited themselves in. “Zo.” Grunted the leader of this group. He, for someone who appeared bewilderingly young, was unbelievably tall and filled up the doorway. “Who vants to haff a goot old-fashioned poetry slam?”  
~~~  
The next morning, noon at least, Virgil awoke in a puddle of beer and blood. He sat up and shook slightly, not pleased at all with the state his uniform was in. A handful of corpses littered the tables, his horse was nowhere to be found, and three satchels of valuables were attached to his belt.  
He growled softly and stripped the clothes from one nearby body, shrugging on their great coat and grumbling when he found that they had already been picked clean of jewelry and cash. He dug behind the bar for a jug of water, emptying it into his mouth and over his hair in the best bath he would get this week. The jaeger slumped out into the day. He flinched, grumbling, at the lance of midday light that stung his vision.  
An angry growl of hunger ripped at his lower intestine, and he immediately went to meet with the fellows that were cooking up tantalizing bits of meat. “Hey, hyu!” Stosh pointed a gnarled claw at him not seconds after crossed into the line of sight. He and two others were standing by a street cart with a vat of caramel, the owner having long fled. Under each monster’s arm was at least one cat, some dead and cooked in the fire overnight and some, a hairless breed owned by the upper class, still clawing at their captor’s sleeves.  
He turned curiously. “Zudok and I iz havink a bit ov a disagreement. Vot’s der best vay to dip a cat in caramel? By der tail, or der feet tied op?”  
“Or by der scruff ov der neck!” The other, with the most cats, interjected.  
“Shaddup, dots der vay hyu’d get it all over hyu hands.” Zudok shot, before turning back.  
Virgil, the unwitting judge, wandered closer to examine this setup. The tallest of the three, and most determined to settle this, offered him one of the flailing, mewling pets by its tail. He took it, licked his lips, and dunked it slowly into the thick, bubbling sugar concoction.  
It continued to kick, digging its claws into the cauldron’s edge until he forced it under up to his fist and held the animal until it ceased moving. When he removed it, caramel streamed off and onto the ground and it kicked several times. He shook his head and handed it back to Stosh. The other soldier scowled and took a bite that ceased the weak squirming, watching as the other cat was prepared.  
Zudok already had his animal tied up, feet hog tied and hung with twine. It seemed impressive, and worked just fine. The whole cat got dipped, it didn’t flail and splatter them with sugar. He nodded approvingly and gave it back to the long-armed jaeger before taking a roasted one and dipping it for himself.  
After the caramel hardened enough he went on his way, chewing thoughtlessly through bone and sinew, savoring the sweet. One of the things he rather enjoyed about being an inhuman monster was the unique appetite. He finished the pet in only a handful of sickeningly large bites, sucking on the ends of his fingers, before wandering curiously towards the largest house in town square. The streets were empty, the sound of shot, music, and screams made up all ambience. It was like an amusement park, and it was all theirs.  
This mansion was built with a courtyard and jaegers with rifles were sitting atop the thatch roof, talking and drinking coffee and occasionally firing into the gardens below, hooting. He leaned over the edge to see what they were shooting at. Down below the home’s keepers, servants, maids and cooks had ben herded into the gardens and the monsters were shooting them for sport like fish in a barrel. “Ve leave der keeds zo dere’s still pipple to run de place next time.” One, passing out guns from the local armory to those who wanted to join in, explained. “Und most ov der gorls. Mama doesn’t like uz to hurt, und especially not court dem, most ov der time.”  
The general did keep most of the soldiers in line when it came to the women they encountered. Any soldier, monster or not, caught or accused of violating or hurting a girl had to answer to Mama, by far the scariest of their ancient and deadly leaders. Virgil had seen someone dragged out of his tent and beaten black and blue by her for hitting one of the cart drivers for ‘riding his ass’ despite him lagging behind. He was then made to walk the remainder of the trip. As someone who grew up with a loving mother and three sisters, spending five years as their primary male caretaker, he knew better. No one had even felt Sophia up with their eyes without a warning snarl from him. So not taking advantage of or killing girls, some in games like this excepted, was common sense.  
He laid out on the thatch and propped his gun in the crook of his shoulder, beside Charles. “Vot ve iz doink iz pickink a target, and whoeffer gets dem first gets a free beer. Double eef hyu kill dem mit hyu vun shot.”  
Virgil nodded comprehensively. He had played this game about a year ago on a less important raid. “Hy call der fat guy!” The tall soldier from last night, now looking even more elephantine by lying down next to three others, called out. He pointed a beefy blue finger at a very flustered, tomato faced older gentleman.  
The jaeger grinned and took aim, positioning his sights right on the man’s shining bald skull. It was interrupted before he could even fire by a bullet that tore through his target’s shoulder. A desperate riddling of second-late bullets followed, but the blue one stood victorious. “Gots him! Dot’s four beers!”  
“Good for hyu keedoh.” Rerich rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out faintly distastefully. “Der ginger gurl!” And everyone resumed firing. This time Jenka’s aim was true, putting a bullet in the back of her knee, and Virgil silently cursed his poor marksmanship. He crossed his arms, eyes wandering towards the home’s shattered windows. From inside something glimmered, and he narrowed his eyes. The jaeger slipped down off the roof into the bloodied garden courtyard, edging between the dead and injured. He stuck his head in the window, looking for that silvery glimmer.  
In instant retaliation, the teenage girl sitting almost out of sight below the window sill swung a frying pan at his at his lower jaw. “Get out of here you ugly thing you don’t touch my family!” She shrieked. The cooking utensil met his chin twice, making Virgil yelp and retreat a handful of steps. He snatched at the pan, pulling it from her grasp. The brave wielder, a pretty little thing of perhaps seventeen, immediately fell back.  
Then he got a good look at the shining thing that had caught his eye. It was a necklace, silver and laid full of precious rubies. Perfect for his return to Sophia. The mayor’s daughter backed away, into the arms of her mother who had entered and then huddled in the back corner at the sight of this confrontation. He swung a leg over the window and inside, approaching slowly as if to show he wasn’t going to injure them. He just wanted the jewelry and made it clear by thrusting out a hand and pointing to the necklace, then turning it open palmed.  
“Mother-“  
“Shush. They’re stupid, like birds. They like shiny things.”  
At the suggestion that he was stupid, Virgil growled again. A knot was swelling on his jaw, big enough that it would have prevented him from speaking clearly whether he had been capable of it or not. “Mother should I-“ The girl touched the clasp of her necklace.  
“Yes! Give it to it!” She shoved her daughter forward slightly and pulled back upon herself defensively. The girl jerked off the necklace, dropped it into his hand, and fled with tears of fright in her eyes. Virgil tucked it inside his jacket with a satisfied smile. He left to join another activity being hosted by the senior soldiers: making holes in the hiding civilian’s roofs and pouring hot wax through them.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of the new set! I wrote this in one day, because I fuckin love this story and its so easy to write. Reviews, especially on this return, are super appreciated!

The end of winter was upon them when the jaegers finally returned to Mechanicsburg. The brothers had settled their dispute. Joshua Heterodyne had just been sworn in, Matthew turned into a rather lovely oak sapling. For now, he was in the square. All citizens were. As soon as the ceremony ended, Virgil took off from the castle. He had slightly more personal matters on the mind.  


The sandwich shop run by Sophia’s family wasn’t far, past the old glass shop and around the corner of Third Street. She’d be there working no doubt, and he could propose in front of all their regulars.  
The fantasy of Sophia Heintze becoming Sophia Alexandrescu was one he happily indulged in, and it played out like this: They would have children, two or three. One to reopen the farm abandoned since the brutal murder of its tenant, one to run the restaurant. Maybe another, to follow in their father’s footsteps as a mechanic. No other jaegers; he refused to entertain the thought of losing another person dear to him because of the draught. They would grow old, have lots of grandchildren. He’d get to see the Alexandrescu name grow proud and spread wide, Roma blood recognized again.  
It was so sweet to imagine. Lost in thought, Virgil pulled the stolen necklace from his pocket and unwrapped its black velvet packaging. He admired it, glittering in the early afternoon sun. Spring was just returning, the air still cool and crisp. As the smell of baking bread and beef wafted down the street to his delicate nose the jaeger stashed the jewelry away from prying eyes again.  
He didn’t eat at Heintze’s often, but he was attached enough to know he wouldn’t think of renaming it when he became the owner. He would make this promise to the current proprietor, he needed to be on his father-in-law’s good side. They’d never met, and he didn’t recall how or even if Sophia had described him. He was sure that a jaeger family member would grow on him well enough.  
Virgil entered politely and approached the counter. A man deep into his fifties looked up but didn’t make eye contact. “Feel free to take a seat.” The soldier shook his head no. “What can I get you?”  
The young monster dug into his pockets and presented a grainy, dog-eared photograph of the happy couple he had taken during a supply stop. He tapped her picture with a claw gently.  
Mr. Heintze’s face fell immediately. His brows knit, expression hardening. “Oh. It’s you. She’s at her home.”  
Her home? What in God’s name did he mean by that? Virgil’s throat rumbled deeply, not growling just yet. He tapped the picture again.  
“I’ve had her married. One month ago. To someone who will take care of her.” The restauranteur piled as much assumptive self-righteousness as he could into a single sentence.  
The man went sailing out the window painted in gold-and-red with the establishment’s name. He rolled across the cobblestone street in a sea of shattered, glittering glass. For several seconds the whole area was quiet, staring down the jaeger who had lifted and thrown the man he originally intended to befriend. He snarled and stormed out, letting them get back to their lunches.  
He had taken a bound address book from the counter and was following it to Sophia’s new home, where the upper class resided. Behind him were the scattered remaining pages, torn out because he had no way of expressing his anger vocally and because he had every right to. The damn citizen had no respect for the superior being that he had been speaking to.  
The rest of the now-empty leather book was left in a storm drain at the end of his love’s street. As if marrying her off would stop him from proposing. He’d kill this whoever it was, however she wanted. Stewing in fury, he forced himself to take a long, deep breath before knocking. She was so small and soft compared to his tall muscular figure, he didn’t want to cause her a fright.  
All anger was forgotten when she answered. Her complexion was cleaner than ever, her dark hair loose around her gently sloping shoulders. Large, crystal blue eyes separated by a button nose looked up at him, tired but clearly happy to see his face again. She just glowed. Virgil shut his mouth loosely and looked her over. Sophia didn’t say a word until he put a hand, tender as if terrified of hurting her, on her swollen belly. He knelt and looked up, dumbstruck.  
"You're a father, Virgil." She grinned at him. Despite himself, the jaeger smiled. He kissed her prominent baby bump before standing again, motioning about at the community and the house she now apparently lived in.  
His lover sighed. "As soon as I arrived back my father could tell what had happened. He didn't believe you'd come back for me. So, he found a suitor who wanted into and understood the business, and didn't mind raising-" She winced. "A monster's child."  
Virgil scowled, peering around her to look into the house. Not far back was the man she'd been married too, watching with sad eyes that darted back once, as if he planned to run. He was baby-faced, thin and tall with soft orange hair and light brown eyes. A few youthful freckles were smattered across his cheeks. He was cute, innocent looking. The way the young man held himself, he seemed a bit like a toothpick ready to break. The Jaeger let his fang- baring snarl fall.  
"If it's any consolation, those aren't my words." He took a few steps forward, polished heels clicking on the tile. "Our parents insisted on this; I've heard from Sophia that you're a wonderful gentleman."  
"This is Gene." She timidly took her husband's hand. "He's a good man, Virgil. He loves to read, I've found."  
"My mother is an author of children's books." He added nervously, searching the monster's face for some approval, or at least some forgiveness.  
The Mechanic shook his head and grunted softly. His love clearly didn't want him to hurt the other man. She was a good judge of character, she seemed to approve of him. Slowly, having lost his vigor, the jaeger removed the velvet - wrapped necklace from his pocket. He placed it in her hands, clasping them.  
Sophia unwrapped it, her husband having stepped back. Before she could comment, or even more than suck in a soft breath of painful emotion, he put a hand on each side of her head and pressed their foreheads together, nuzzling gently. He was crying out of frustration, but Gene didn't have to see that.  
"He'll take g-good care of us both." She stammered, free hand unconsciously stroking her stomach, the child between them. "Please come visit us, won't you?"  
This was answered with a tender kiss and an even more insistent and endearing push of his head against hers, long black hair falling over his shoulders. Her hands moved again, and something was pressed into his palm. He didn't look at what it was until he was far away, sitting in the grass by the Dyne and watching the oranges of sunset dance on rolling water.  
In his hand was a wedding ring, given away to the person who deserved it. He was still in shock. The only girl he'd ever loved, with child, in the equally unsure but infinitely better for her arms of another. What a cruel joke.  
He reared back to chuck it, to let the catfish have the glittering hoop of worthless gold so he didn't have to look or think about it anymore. Virgil stopped, butting himself in the forehead with a clenched fist. That would make things even more pointless.


	11. Apologies

Hey folks, no new chapter yet but I do intend on finishing this. I started this story back in my freshman year of high school, and its been almost four years since its begun. So for you guys who have stuck it out, I really want to say thanks. Fan art and reviews are my biggest inspiration for going on. I've got bigger, better original writing projects going on, as well as school and so on. Girl Genius, in the recent updates, has also failed to really catch my attention. 

I did want to let you all know though that I am going to finish this, and that I still want to complete this story, even changed from its original ideas.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OOF this has been a long time coming. I got a burst of inspiration and an hour so that I could come back, and I apologized that this chapter isn't nearly as polished as some of the others.

Vanna was a beautiful child. Virgil had been there, holding Sophia's hand, when she was delivered. Gene had been on the other side, squawking as if he was going to pass out. She had skin like perfect eggshells, pale brown. She had sweet, intelligent grey eyes. Her father was almost surprised to see her all human, not a fleck of scale or bump of horn in sight. It was how jaegers worked, but it seemed hard to believe; he barely recalled being human. 

He went out of his way to visit at every chance, watching her toddle for the first time, attending a first birthday with a fair hoard of gems and some toys salvaged from his own childhood, his etched - in name now alongside a fresher set of letters. Gene even became a good friend. He understood Virgil's place in all this, but he had come to love Sophia too. The monster didn’t blame him, and knew she was in good hands, as much as it hurt. 

It wasn't until his daughter, one-and-a-half and only barely talking, called Gene "papa" right to his face did Virgil leave it all behind. He went from, as far as her little mind could tell, ambivalent uncle to a silhouette of a stranger. One who had signed over an old farm with nothing on it, because his family was happy where they were, with husbands and children of their own, in her name. All she had was a few wooden horses with a name she didn't know scratched into them and a letter on the deed, telling her that father loved her no matter what.

~~~

But that was almost twenty years ago, shelved behind dedication to backbreaking work deep in the engines of the Heterodyne’s machines. It stirred his passions and he nested among wires and pipes like a mimmoth. Iago Heterodyne was now ten years old; Virgil had seen him twice. His birthday parties were always full of a hundred happy soldiers and more than a few terrified children. Virgil had willingly moved to the northern border after two of them, where there were warm furs to wear and the machines of his creator to maintain in the harsh cold.

Today was a party of his own. If someone hadn’t been looking at his records and said something the night before, he wouldn’t have known at all that he had now spent a quarter-century as a jaeger, thirty years in service to the family of Mechanicsburg. In a few months, he would be fifty. His sisters were almost halfway through their forties.   
At first one wouldn’t believe the senior jaegers when they said that your years blurred together. Living a short life, it felt every year meant so much and it had to be used. Now, he could spend a year in the wastes eating travelers and going out of his way to step on beetles and it wouldn’t matter at all. He figured that’s what he would do, after his assignment here on the border wall ended. 

The jager opened the door, looking forward to coffee and a piece of potato kugel. What he got was a near heart attack. “SURPRISE!” 

He stepped back, slammed the door, dragged in a ragged breath to calm himself, and opened it again with a forced grin. He hated surprises, but it was a delight to his companions and if “Jagerday” parties were more than a decade apart, he would humor them. Birthdays had stopped mattering; he barely remembered which day of August he had come into the world. Goomblast, still a rare visitor of the mechanics, had confided more than once that he wasn’t sure even what year he’d been born in. After four centuries, you cared very little.

A room full of his fellow soldiers and a loose handful of maintenance officers greeted the monster again. He smiled timidly and shrugged off a loose great coat that almost hung off his frame, the fur collar matted from years of overuse and overexposure. His mittens were tucked into a pocket, leaving only the two layers of thermals and work shirts, a hat and a scarf. The deep Northern cold pierced even the deepest rooms where furnaces blasted away to make it as comfortable as mid-December back home at best. In the boiler rooms where he worked, it was better, but a little frost on the scrap metal lunchroom walls never hurt anyone. Well, aside from Tongueless Gabor, but no one talked about him- including himself.

They had warm custard cake, and he took a hearty slice unceremoniously. Cherries had been shipped up from the south and cooked down into a decadent sour sauce, and he poured a generous helping over the treat before taking a seat at the table, receiving several pats on the back.   
“How’s it feel?” 

Virgil looked up, one bite halfway to his mouth. He didn’t socialize much, it was his own party and he didn’t really intend on doing anything but allowing some confetti to be sprinkled into his hair and eating, perhaps bantering and relating some stories- an arm wrestling match and a broken table if they brought out the Vodka.   
A green underling of his had asked the question, one he’d rarely spoken to aside from the occasional two-man project. He sighed, slumping down into the chair. A beaten, grime-stained book came out from somewhere deep in his shirt. His hands rattled a necklace with a gold ring resting against his chest.   
He took a bite of his cake, slipping a pen out of the curled mass of his hair, and writing as he chewed methodically. “It feels like an office party. I feel like I’m still twenty.” And slid it over with his fingers to the young soldier. 

He read it, raising his eyebrows. “No, I mean, to be a jaeger?”

Virgil sighed and set his fork down. The cake was mostly gone anyway; he’d scarfed it down without a ton of savoring. He pushed back his plate, and handed the young recruit yet another note. “Outside. Come with me.” 

~~~

Despite the bitter cold, the younger man followed. Virgil didn’t bother with putting his coat back on, knowing they wouldn’t be out there long and not caring much as to whether or not the end of his nose froze off. In the blowing snow the jaeger made eye contact with the green horn before turning back to his paper and beginning to write with shaking hands, unprotected by gloves. 

‘Being a jaeger is knowing that your soldierhood is more important than anything else. I remember this date, the day I took the draught, better than my own birthday. And even this I forgot. It’s knowing you’ll never make eye contact with a stranger and have them trust you again. It knowing you’ll never make eye contact with someone you’ve met before and having them trust you completely again. It’s feeling lonely everywhere but in your barracks and on the battlefield, unless you had a close family before the army. It’s starting family being a near impossibility. It’s adrenaline rush after adrenaline rush, more powerful than any human. Better than any human. It’s-“ Virgil stared at the paper, closing his eyes for a moment and sucking in a deep, burning cold breath. “It’s relying on yourself, and your fellow soldiers, the heterodyne, and no one else. Knowing that you’re the only one who can really take care of you. You’re not human anymore, no matter what your children look like or who’s willing to marry you. You’re not a human, no one will ever see you as one, and it’s for the best. You’re a war machine, a face in a monstrous crowd. A blur of teeth and claws, and power-‘

“Sir?” The blonde, blue-eyed army mechanic startled him out of his rant.

Virgil paused. He realized he was breathing hard, as if he’d just yelled everything that had gone down on three sheets of short, lined notebook paper. He took a deep breath and tore them out, stuffing them into the pocket of his pants. 

‘It’s absolutely worth it, that’s all you need to know. It doesn’t matter who you care about-‘ He paused and scratched that out. ‘It’s power. Trust in your fellow soldiers- those you meet out here won’t let you down. It’s something that you have to be chosen and volunteer for for a reason. And I don’t think you’ve got the chops, so don’t worry about the questions.”


End file.
